


Dear Diary, The World Kind of Ended

by DustySoul



Category: Fear the Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Diary/Journal, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2015-09-29
Packaged: 2018-04-23 18:01:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4886371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DustySoul/pseuds/DustySoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alicia starts a diary.<br/>It's every teenage girl's birth right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am dusty-soul on tumblr if you want to follow my other fannish activities or read live blogging of writing this fic.
> 
> Not beta-ed, please let me know of any spelling and grammar mistakes. I could say, "Pretend that they're there because this is a teenager girl's diary" but Alicia is going to Berkeley and I don't know _how_ big a deal that is, but I am going to guess it means she can spell and grammar better than my dyslexic ass.
> 
> Also tags and warnings may be subject to change a long the way.


	2. Chapter 2

[Entry 1]

~~ Dear Diary, ~~

Fuck no, that sounds stupid.

Just… whatever. Forget it.

 

[Entry 2]

Dear-

The army showed up. Just out of the blue. I think I’m suppose to feel grateful.

I don’t.

I mean… sure. They saved Patrick. No one has heard from him though.

The lights are on, sometimes. They say they’ll bring us food and water, medicine and maybe even get the phone lines to work again. But… I don’t trust them.

I don’t think mom or Travis do either. I don’t think anyone does, actually.

We just don’t know what the alternative is. They say it’s death but… the quarantine, I guess that’s what we are, is so small… If you stand up on the roof of a house near the center, you can see the entire fence. It’s hard to believe that everyone else out there is just… gone.

Past the mountains, they have to be okay. At least for now. This… whatever it is, can’t have traveled that fast.

Whatever.

No one’s talking about any of it. I bet I’d just be told to shut up if I brought it up.

 

[Entry 3]

They brought food.

I still don’t trust them.

 

[Entry 4]

It was lock myself in my room and write this or play _another_  game of monopoly. I don’t know why mom couldn’t have found an Uno deck instead. I Spy would be better than freaking monopoly.

Anyway.

Nothing new. Not really.

The sheer terror of this disaster has started to fade. I woke up this morning and for a few seconds, I thought I had school. Stupid. Who’d miss school? I think that’s maybe the only good thing to come out of this whole mess. I'm not board off my ass in Algebra.

 

[Entry 5]

I know why I’m doing this. I used to roll my eyes at the other girls who wrote poetry or kept diaries but tonight I figured it out.

It’s because I’m seventeen. I’m seventeen and Nick got high again and it’s a big deal because this time their were soldiers who took him away. And we might not ever see him again. Mom knows more than she’s telling. And I don’t know what Chris’ problem is but I’m the only one who hasn’t gotten to be a stupid teenager for more than five minutes at a time.

So.

Dear mother fucking diary,

The world may be ending. And tonight I’m going to paint my nails by candle light and do my make up and pretend that I’m not doing homework, calling the whole thing stupid, because I’m letting myself be lazy and apathetic and not because school’s closed. Probably forever.

I’m going to dig my nasty little claws into every shred of normalcy I can until everything is good and done falling apart.

I don’t know what I’ll do next. I’ll probably be eighteen when that happens. So, I’ve got one year of shitty, stereotypical teen girl diary writing a head of me. Best make the most of it.

Yeah … That's all I have to say.

 

[Entry 6]

To do this thing properly I feel like I should be heading each page with the date well… I don’t know what day it is. I walked past the calendar in the kitchen and just noticed it for the first time since all of this started. I couldn’t point to the little square marking when everything fell apart. I know it hasn’t been a month yet. Maybe not even a week.

Which is fine. Reasonable. All things considered…

I asked Chris. He says it’s been nine days since “the lights went out”. (His words, not mine.) And that sounds about right.

The thing is I still don’t remember what day _that_ was. It wasn't the day school closed... but close... I think.

I just haven't been counting. Maybe I should have been. But... I didn't see the city go dark form the freeway. It... I mean, it didn't catch up to me like that. 

It's not like I just woke up one morning and thought:  _oh, okay. This is it. The world is ending._ I mean… it might not be. Ending. I didn’t really mean it before, not like that.

We have food. Water. Still waiting on the phones. Medicine though. They came through on that.

But... It definitely seems like a possibility now. Especially with Nick gone.

It just... school was closed and then we had to find Nick and then Matt was sick and then and then and then... When we got a chance to rest we played monopoly. We didn't watch the power grid fail right in front of us.

So I don't have a start date. It almost seems to matter. It’s just normal enough these days, with the power on for a couple of hours, that it almost seems to matter.

The edge of the world is a chain link fence instead of the horizon. And if you don’t look too hard into the distance everything seems like it might be alright.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So here's the chapter for episode 5. Enjoy.

[Entry 7]

I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many beautiful dresses in one place before. Maybe at Macy’s during prom season. Are those real diamonds?

They all fit me. Or at least looked like they would. I didn’t know which to try on first.

It’s a little bit like playing pretend, putting on a cheap princess dress from the costume box. Maybe even picking out a matching wand and tiara. Last Halloween I didn’t dress up as anything. God, it’s been years. And it’s so easy to slide into this other life - to play pretend.

Until it’s not fun anymore.

The girl, who ever lived here and slept in that bed and owned these dresses, she’s not coming back. I’m sure of that. She might be dead. She also might be living it up on some tropical island with her family, safe.

Later, I ask Chris, if he wonders what happened to them. Like I wonder what happened to Matt. Or the people on the other side of the fence. Even the walkers. Whenever I think about them… I can’t help but wonder how all this started. I can’t help but wonder about everything that was going through her head when Susan wrote that note to Patrick. I wonder where Rebecca and Jane are now. I wonder what happened to that girl who always ate alone during lunch. I wonder...

Chris says, “No.”

So we smash what they left behind.

And when I go back upstairs to change out of the dress I think about how worked up he got over that light. There was someone out there. They had a story. “No man’s an island.” And all that. It matters.

I thought I’d destroy the dress, rip the backing off and tear the fabric. I don’t. I don’t touch anything in that room.

I’d lock Chris out if I could.

I don’t want him in here. I don’t know why.

Whoever lived here. She had a diary. It even has a little lock, the key already inside. It’s empty, a few pages torn out. And I know what that’s like.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to message or follow me on tumblr at dusty-soul.tumblr.com


End file.
